


Take Me For What I Am

by Bennyhatter



Series: Shifter 'Verse [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Animalistic, Danny Needs a Hug, Gen, Human/Shifter Racism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Primal Behavior, Racism, Shifters, Steve Has Issues, pack mentality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 19:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: Danny has an emotional day, but he gets to spend extra time with Grace. Also, there are many Feelings. And Steve McGarrett has Issues.





	Take Me For What I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey look I'm back with more stuff. Danny is a delight and I love him. Sassy is a good look for him. Also Steve is rife with Issues but that's okay because Danny loves him anyway.
> 
> I tagged this as mature because of language I suppose. I have no idea what I'm doing. It's five am but who needs sleep anyway.
> 
> NOT ME.
> 
> .... okay maybe me.
> 
> (Song title may possibly be from RENT. Also has anyone guessed yet what Danny's Shift is? *bounces eagerly*)
> 
> ENJOY.

“How the hell can you eat those and still look the way you do?”

Danny doesn't look up from the newspaper he's been reading, but he grins wide enough for Steve to see it. “Shifter metabolism, babe,” he says cheerfully before taking another bite of his malasada. It tastes like heaven despite the fact that the shop needs to change their oil soon; perfect little balls of sugar-coated heaven. “Why do you think I eat so much?” He turns the page and eyes an article about the Governor’s upcoming election. “How was your swim?”

Steve still smells like the ocean, fresh and salty with the undercurrents of his own natural scent. Danny listens to the rasp of his towel over his body and frowns when the sound changes subtly in several places. McGarrett’s heartbeat had jumped into overdrive when he'd realized someone was in his house; it's still slowly calming down, a heavy jump-and-jerk rhythm in Danny’s ears. He feels the man's eyes boring into his skin but doesn't look up yet.

“Fine. Is this going to be a thing now? You just breaking into my house whenever you feel like it?”

“I knocked,” Danny defends himself. “You did not answer. Considering your penchant for throwing guys off rooftops, and lets not forget the _grenades_ , sue me for being concerned about your health. And your mental stability, but mostly your health. Because, babe, _grenades_.”

Steve’s heart settles back into its normal tempo, a soothing sound to Danny even if he will never admit it. The man in front of him has more control of himself than anyone Danny has met besides himself; he'd have to, to control the emotions that rage behind those wide hazel eyes. Danny has run into plenty of people who don't like Shifters - he's never run into someone who hates them quite the way Steve does, and yet still invites them into his home.

Turning his thoughts back to more pleasant things, he holds up the grease-stained bag he's brought with him. “Malasada?”

“No thanks, man. One of those would undo my entire workout. You enjoy.” There's a spike in his scent, something that reminds Danny of cinnamon and honey. _Fondness_ , he'd guess, and it makes something warm unfurl in his chest. Their relationship is still new, they've only been working together for a little over a month, but any sign that Steve isn't the same man he first met -- the bitter, raging SEAL that looked ready to rip his throat out any chance he could find for something Danny couldn't _help_ \-- is a positive one. He finally looks up from his paper, wanting to see Steve’s reaction to his next teasing words, but they swiftly die in his throat and all he can do is stare.

Steve is still shirtless, his damp towel held loosely in his hand. His hair is sticking up in ridiculous ways, dripping excess water down his torso. There isn't an unnecessary ounce of fat on McGarrett anywhere, which Danny could have guessed from the shirts he tends to wear. His partner is well-built and strong, _my body is my temple_ and all that, but the rivulets of water dripping through his chest hair isn't what has Danny's attention. A wet Steve is a sight to behold, but it isn't what has Danny's mouth dry or his pulse thundering loudly in his ears.

He knows that Victor Hesse was a Shifter, and that he'd shifted during that fatal last fight. Danny was there, okay, he saw the aftermath. He'd thought Steve was going to lose his arm; there had been so much blood and damage. A wound like that was bound to scar, jagged tears and puncture marks the only thing they have left to remember the Shifter painted in a macabre pattern across Steve’s shoulder. _Too close_ , Danny thinks when he sees just how near some of those scars are to Steve’s throat. _Way too close._ The sight of them makes his Shift stir beneath his skin, growling and wanting out, wanting to _kill_ , but Danny has iron-clad control for a reason. The scars from Hesse are terrible, but the bite isn't the only thing marring Steve’s skin.

That isn't the worst of it, not by a long shot. The man is covered in scars, bite marks and claw marks that carve patterns over his sun-tanned flesh. Danny sees some that wrap around his side from front to back; tears and more punctures that remind him of a bite low on Steve’s hip, part of it hidden by his dark swim trunks. His body is a network of horrific memories, some overlapping older damages, and Danny is hit with such a strong feeling of _rage_ that his claws tear free and rip holes in the malasadas bag before he can stop himself.

“Steve,” he whispers hoarsely, his Shift snarling just below the surface; barking and howling furiously while they look together at all of the pain their packmate has endured. Danny might not be wolf-kind, but his breed is just as pack-oriented. Family is important, _pack_ means everything, and seeing Steve’s justifiable hatred for Shifters carved down to his _bones_ makes something so protective and _violent_ roll through Danny's chest that he almost can't breathe for a moment.

“Don't,” Steve says quietly. The easy grin, something Danny has worked _so hard_ for, has dropped from his face. His eyes are dark and unreadable, but his fingers aren't twitching. There's no aggression in his scent, not like there used to be, and Danny almost drowns under the _trust_ that's being shown. It must have taken Steve so much to keep himself bare, to let Danny _see_ , and he can't decide if he wants to lunge forward and hug Steve or hunt down monsters already long dead and make them _suffer_ for ever harming one of his packmates.

His phone rings then, breaking the tension with the horrible screeching notes that signify Rachel is calling him. He can't take his eyes off Steve as he fumbles for his phone, his fingers greasy and sticky with dissolved sugar. It's a sweet, overprocessed scent in his nose, but nothing can cut through the thick musk of Steve’s natural scent now that the water is drying on his skin. Danny breathes it in like a lifeline to remind himself that he's not alone.

“Hi, dear,” he grates out, trying for cheerful and failing miserably. Not that Rachel would notice -- or realize that the tense undercurrent in Danny's tone has nothing to do with her.

“Danno!”

Warmth chases away the cold shadows around Danny's heart, filling him to the brim until he overflows and leaks his happiness into every corner of Steve’s home. “Hi, monkey! What are you doin’ up so early, huh? Shouldn't you be in school?”

“It's Saturday, daddy!” Gracie laughs at him, her sweet little voice systematically obliterating every dark thought that had filled Danny just moments ago. His little pup is very good at that. She's his pride and joy -- the only thing, he'd once told Steve, that made Danny's life worth living.

Steve is smiling, his own tension eased by Danny's smile and the significantly uplifted mood. His partner catches his attention and points up, so Danny nods distractedly and waves him away. The man goes to take his shower and Danny pushes away the newspaper he's forgotten about, folding his arms on the table and grinning as he listens to his pup.

“What, they don't have school on Saturday anymore?” he teases.

“They never did,” Grace tells him prudently, twisting his heart with her wise words when he thinks of just how much she's grown since the day she was born.

“They did when _I_ was a pup,” he protests, and Grace giggles as he playfully rants about the hours he'd has to waste _studying_ rather than sleeping in.

“You did not, daddy,” his daughter insists, dragging the truth out of him, and Danny's proud rumble is echoed by his beautiful girl's puppyish squeak. He lets her talk, listening to her voice, and when Steve comes back not even ten minutes later, showered and dressed and looking at him curiously, Danny is grinning like a fool.

And then Grace catches him off guard. “Can we go running soon?”

He tries not to tense too noticeably, but Steve sees it anyway and goes on alert. Danny shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, trying not to sigh. “I'm not sure how safe that is right now, monkey,” he says after a moment. “You're still so small, and this is a huge island. What if some family finds you and decides to keep you forever? You're so cute I can guarantee they'd want to. What am I gonna do without my monkey, huh?”

“ _Please_ , Danno?” Grace begs. She sounds so hopeful, so _innocent_. She loves to run with him; she has ever since she was big enough to shift for the first time, back when she was nothing but oversized paws and uncoordinated legs.

“Sweetheart, I-”

“Mommy says we can run here!”

That gives him pause, because Rachel hasn't once offered anything of the sort to him. “Can I speak to mommy for a minute then, monkey?”

“Okay!” His baby sounds so happy, like he's already told her yes. Danny rubs at his eyes tiredly and listens to Steve moving around in the kitchen behind him. Maybe he should be a little more wary of the highly-trained Navy SEAL with the Shifter issues being out of eyesight, but he's confident that they're beyond that stage now. It's been a few busy weeks since that first meeting; Danny can't confidently remember the last time either of them bared their teeth in actual challenge rather than bluffing. It's almost become part of their regular banter now; insults, bluffs, toothy grins, all thrown like friendly fire over the heads of suspects they've chased down.

“Daniel?” Rachel sounds like she's already said his name once or twice, so Danny berates himself for getting lost in his thoughts and makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, was thinking. Grace says you're giving us the okay to run on the property.” Rachel has never offered him that kind of freedom before, not since they moved to the island and Danny had to do his best to find safe places for his Shift to run. “That true?”

“It is, yes, but there are stipulations.” His ex-wife’s warm, English accent used to calm him better than anyone else. Now Danny finds solace in the rare squeeze of broad hands on his shoulder or arm; wide hazel eyes and pup-like confusion in the way McGarrett sometimes watches him, like Danny is a puzzle he hasn't yet managed to assemble but he's determined to see it through. Compared to all that, Rachel’s words are like an annoying scrape across his senses; she always speaks like she's about to blow out his eardrums. Like Danny can't handle her natural tone over the phone when they used to spend hours screaming at each other.

“What are they?”

“You may not take Grace beyond the walls,” Rachel says immediately. Like she thought Danny would ever entertain the thought of leading his pup out onto streets he hadn't roamed himself first.

“Done. What else?”

“You are _not_ to menace the staff, or Stan. You may not come into the house shifted.”

That one stings, Danny doesn't try to pretend otherwise. He hears Steve’s phone ring and the man strides out to answer it, his knuckles bumping Danny's shoulder briefly on his way by. It's not much, but he knows it wasn't an accident; his partner does not touch people unless he decides to. The brief contact is enough to make his tense muscles uncoil and he relaxes back in his seat with a frustrated sigh.

“I'm not going to maul them, Rach. I never have. You _know_ that.”

“But they don't,” Rachel retorts. Her words intermingle with Steve’s quiet, brusque, “ _McGarrett_ ,” when he answers the phone. Danny's instincts are torn between his packmate’s sharp spike in scent and the woman he once vowed to always love; the woman who had decided he couldn't be trusted as a cop and a Shifter once she had truly seen him for herself. Once she had seen Danny in action and realized what it meant to be mated to a Shifter. Once their daughter had been born and she realized that her baby was one too.

“I'm not a monster, Rachel,” Danny says quietly. It's not even ten in the morning but he feels so tired suddenly, so _old_ despite only being thirty-four. “I will die to keep her safe, no matter what. From _anything_.”

Rachel’s voice is just as quiet and filled with sadness. “I know.”

Steve comes back into the room, his expression grim, and Danny knows that it's time to go to work. “Gotta go, Rachel. Tell Grace that Danno loves her and I'll see her soon.”

“Come by when you have free time,” Rachel suggests. “You need to shift, Daniel, and she needs the practice. Don't wait too long.”

“I know. See you soon.” He hangs up and stares at his phone for a few seconds before grumbling and shoving it into his pocket.

“So. Danno, huh?”

“Do not start with me, McGarrett.” Danny points at him and shakes his finger, a firm _no_ , but Steve’s eyes are dancing like Christmas came early. “You do not call me that.”

“Sure thing,” Steve agrees, but Danny can see it in his eyes and taste it in his scent; Steve isn't going to let this one go easily. He's practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, his excitement muted but not contained completely. Danny's groan is a mixture of frustration and amusement.

“Only you would be so excited about bad guys,” he gripes as he gets up and shoves his chair back in place. “Alright, alright, I'm coming. What did Chin have to say?”

Steve doesn't comment on the fact that Danny knew exactly who called; heightened senses are often a Shifter's best weapon, and Danny is no different.

“Got a body at O’ahu National. Single male, two gunshots, looks like a robbery gone wrong…” Steve rattles on as they head for the Camaro, his hand already up to catch the keys like he knew Danny was about to throw them. It's hard to swallow back his comment, to ask if Steve is _sure_ he doesn't have a Shift; no normal human can be that perceptive. Danny isn't about to open that can of worms, not right now, so he grins and ducks into the Camaro as Steve rattles on, buckling his seatbelt and feeling the anticipation of the hunt sing through his blood; muted but eager to swell as soon as he's got a scent to follow. His Shift is impatient under his skin as Steve points the car the direction they need to go and floors it, the feeling of fur prickling down his arms a mildly painful irritation. Danny takes a deep, steady breath and brings his instincts back under control. Rachel said he's allowed to run with his pup; he has her permission. Now he just has to make sure nothing can screw that up.

Sometimes that's easier said than done when partnered with a man like Steve McGarrett.

 

\--

 

“I cannot believe you.” Danny slams his hand down on the dashboard, gritting his teeth to hold back the tide surging inside his chest. Steve looks like he doesn't understand, shooting Danny baffled glances from the driver's seat.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he ventures; his mouth clicks closed and the muscle in his jaw tightens when Danny growls at him.

“You hung a man off of a roof, Steven. That is a thing that you did, barely fifteen minutes ago. I… I honestly don't have the words in my vocabulary right now to describe how much I want to hit you.”

“He had information, we needed it,” Steve argues. “The Governor gave me-”

“Stop,” Danny snarls, and Steve falls silent. His scent is a riotous mix, pungent and sharp with unhappiness and the thin, bitter tang of uncertainty. He keeps looking at Danny like he's afraid that this is it, that Danny will walk away after everything they've already worked so hard for. Steve hates Shifters but he's let Danny into his home, he's trusted him with something he cannot name, and Danny can't understand _why_. He can't tell if it's personal or if Steve is trying because they need this team to _work_ , if he's putting his anger and resentments aside at a deeper cost because he thinks he has to, and if Danny finds out that's the truth of it then he really is going to punch Steven McGarrett. He's going to make sure his point gets driven home but he's not going to _scar_ , he's not a rabid _beast_. He'll drive it home and then he'll _walk away_ because Danny is not doing this. He's not investing time and _care_ into a man who cannot do the same; who is too fucking twisted up by his personal vendettas and Issues to recognize that what he has isn't going to blow up in his face.

“You are going to listen to me now, okay?” When Steve’s forearms flex, the muscles jumping and spasming beneath tanned skin, Danny forces himself to breathe and focus. His Shift is whining, his instinct is to comfort and fix because Steve is _pack_ now, hangups and all, and Danny is not actually an asshole. For now he taps a clawed finger against the dashboard and stares at the highway stretching out ahead of them.

“Okay, Steven?”

“Yes,” Steve grits out. He looks furious but his eyes are wide, darting from car to car relentlessly. His heartbeat is unsteady and Danny makes a low, mournful noise at the sight and scent of the man he's come to respect and care about looking so torn between his heart and his head.

It's like Rachel, only worse. Rachel never hated Shifters, she wouldn't have married him if she did -- but she didn't like what she saw once she was in it. She hadn't taken into account the instincts, the nature that makes Danny a great cop and an amazing father; the drive and danger she'd so willingly taken in hand until it blew up in her face and she blew up in his.

Danny is years past hating himself for his birthright. He had no say in who he would be, or what form his Shift would choose. He can't change any of it, and he _won't_ , but it doesn't make it hurt any less when he's reminded of just how dangerous he can be, especially when it comes to protecting those he loves.

“I know that the Governor has given us full immunity and means,” he begins once his anger has calmed to acceptable levels and his skin doesn't burn from the threat of his Shift. Steve nods sharply, a reflexive jerk of his head, and Danny knows he's waiting for the fall out. “Babe, you cannot hang people off of the top of buildings anymore. You just cannot _do that_. Means or not, immunity or _not_ , this is not how we do things. It will not be how we do things.”

“He told us-”

“He would have told us _anything_ to not be thrown off the _roof_ ,” Danny cuts in. Fisting a hand in his hair, he growls and shakes his head. “I swear to God it is like talking to a neanderthal with you,” he hisses. “This is not the prehistoric age anymore, babe. It is the twenty-first century. We have interrogation rooms for _reasons_.”

“I wasn't going to drop him,” Steve mutters petulantly. “He couldn't have told us anything then.”

Danny stares at him. He can't help it. His brain is making a dangerous sound, a high whining noise that means Steve has probably broken him in ways that cannot be fixed.

“You are _not human_ ,” he decides, pointing at the man and shaking his head. He sees the tendons in Steve’s neck tighten, sees the way his jaw shifts and his upper lip curls, and his answering growl is low and full of warning. “Do not start with me, Steven. This isn't about that. You cannot take the law for granted just because someone handed you a shiny title. It doesn't work like that!”

“I wasn't going to drop him!” Steve gestures angrily and smacks his hand against his window, his bitten-off curse spat past clenched teeth. “Don't believe me? Listen to my heartbeat. I. Was. Not. Going. To. Drop. Him.”

There isn't so much as a jump to signify he's lying; no acrid tang of deception in his scent. He's telling the truth, but Danny isn't mollified.

“Is this all just some game to you?” he asks quietly. His tone makes Steve slow down, makes him whip the Camaro off the road onto the shoulder, wheels in the mud and grass, before he turns to face the Shifter watching him. He's stopped by what he sees on Danny's face, his eyes widening fractionally and his heartbeat thudding out of control.

Danny looks away so the words don't stick on his throat like tar. “You pick up a pretty new team, throw some Shifters on it to quiet the equalists, and turn Hawaii into your own personal stomping ground? Is that what this is to you?”

“What? Danny, no, I-”

“I get it, Steve, you know I do.” Closing his eyes so he doesn't have to _see_ , Danny thunks his head back against his headrest and resigns himself to hearing and smelling for this conversation. “You don't like Shifters, and I get that. Hell, I can understand it, considering what you-” He shakes his head so hard it hurts and blows out a shaky, heavy breath through his nose. “I get it,” he promises, _swears_ , cutting himself to the core because Danny Williams does not let things get that deep to begin with, but Steve has. He's crawled under Danny's skins, deep into his chest where his Shift lives, and Danny has _let_ him. He shouldn't have, not so soon and not with the way things are. Steve has Issues with a capital ‘I’, there's no hiding from them, and usually Danny is better at keeping his distance, _but_. Steve has a way of sneaking past defenses whether they're physical or emotional. He burrows in deep and latches on like a goddamn tick and there's no getting rid of him, not without cutting everything away that reminds Danny of what it feels like to _live_ outside his precious hours with his daughter.

The truth is, Danny has felt more alive in the last _month_ than he has since he came to O’ahu, and it's because of Steve. It's Kono and Chin and Kamekona too, but it's mostly the wide-eyed Lieutenant Commander staring at him with _confusionfeardistress_ radiating off his skin like heat.

“I am not some token piece to parade in front of admirers,” Danny says flatly. His lungs burn, his skin is prickling; his claws are digging into his knee, tearing small holes in his pants. Jesus Christ, how has this become his life? No one has ever tested his control the way Steve has; it's like he _wants_ Danny to snap.

Like he's _waiting_ for it.

 _Fucking hell_.

“We are _partners,_ ” he stresses, finally opening his eyes and turning to look at Steve. The man's eyes are shining, dark, his chest carefully still in that way people have when they're regulating their breathing to keep from panicking. His fingers are loose around the steering wheel and his shoulders are slumped, but Danny can see the prominent veins winding down his forearms. “That means we have to work together, Steven. _Together_. I cannot have you tearing off after suspects without waiting for backup, okay? My blood pressure cannot handle you playing a hero and doing your whole lone wolf thing.” He gestures helplessly at all of Steve and watches his lips twitch like he's trying not to smile. The air isn't as thick anymore, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had built, and Danny breathes the freshness in greedily. “No more hanging people off of buildings, Steven,” he warns. Steve nods quickly. “And if you're going to insist on shooting first and asking questions later, I need you to _tell_ _me_ these things, so that I at least know when to duck when the shit hits the fan. Okay? I have a daughter, whom I love more than you love grenades. I would like to stay alive so that I can continue to love her. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” It's Steve’s turn to promise, and his smile is almost as radiant as the sun. That he's looking straight at Danny makes his heart thump painfully in his chest; it feels like a punch in the gut and he slumps back against his seat like his strings have been cut. Steve starts the car again and drives, tapping his fingers against the wheel and still smiling, like Danny has given him the moon rather than a badly-disguised ultimatum. The constant emotional one-eighties are enough to make him dizzy.

This man is unreal.

“Why do you trust me?” he asks once he sees their headquarters rising out of the cluster of the bustling city. “Why am I here, Steve? Why me?”

His partner bites his lip and glances at him, his heart stuttering in his chest in a way Danny can't decipher, especially because his scent doesn't sour from fear or repulsion.

“I don't know,” he whispers, and it's completely the truth. “I don't know, Danny. I just… don't know.”

“Just do me a favor, babe?” Steve nods hesitantly after a moment and Danny smiles, trying to bring a little humor into the mood. “Let me know when you figure it out?”

His partner grins, wide and sweet and almost _shy_. “Sure thing, Danno.”

God damn it. “You just had to ruin it, didn't you?”

“Aw, come on! I like it. It's _cute_.” Steve honestly _pouts_ and it's too much. It's just too fucking much.

Danny covers his eyes and groans. “I hate you so much,” he announces loudly, and Steve laughs as he climbs out of the car. It's good though, because if he's walking away then he can't see how hard Danny is trying not to smile.

Fucking emotionally-constipated SEAL Commanders. How is this his life, seriously?

 

\--

 

“Danno!”

He's already down on one knee when Grace launches herself at him, her sweet voice raised in a howl that echoes across the property. Danny catches her -- he'll _always_ catch her -- and hugs his pup to his chest tightly. He breathes in her scent, flowers and fresh grass and sunlight, and his whine is low and pleased when he nuzzles into her long hair and just exists for a moment. Just for a little while, a piece of his existence that is theirs alone. He knows that Rachel is watching from the lanai, he can smell the apprehension she's trying so hard to hide, but that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is Grace.

“Hey there, monkey,” he whispers in her ear after he's filled his nose with her scent. She doesn't smell like him, not in the way she should since he's her father, but Danny will change that as much as he can today. Rachel had left this offer open-ended; Grace needs to learn her Shift and Danny needs to run sometimes. This is the perfect place to kill two birds with one stone. It's quiet, the gates are high enough, and the neighbors on either side are rarely home.

Danny couldn't ask for a better place.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks, no winding speeches or preamble. He's here to bond and he plans on utilizing every single moment. Grace nods at him, her beautiful eyes wide and eager. “Do you remember how? I know it's been a while.”

“I have to trust my Shift,” his pup recites obediently. “I have to remember that it's not just my human body, but my Shift’s as well. Two bodies, one mind. Maintain the balance to maintain the Shift.”

“Very good, sweetheart.” Danny tucks her hair behind her ear and taps her nose gently. “Shifting hurts, baby girl, but it's worth it. It's fun and freeing, but you can't let your emotions win or you'll never change back. You rule your instincts, not the other way around.” Fuck, if only it's that easy to remember every time Steve throws himself in danger and Danny's instincts howl at him to _protect_ and _kill_. No one tests his control like that man. Its outrageous. “Got it?”

“I've got it, Danno. Can we shift now?” Grace whines and squirms impatiently under his hands, her lower lip slipping out in a pout that makes Danny chuckle and press another kiss to her forehead.

“Get to it then, monkey. Let me see. Ah, ah!” He taps her cheek quickly when she closes her eyes, looking pointedly at her dress when she whines at him again. “What did I tell you about clothes, huh?”

“Oh yeah!” Giggling, his pup quickly shimmies out of her outfit and Danny thanks any deity currently listening that Stan’s back yard is so well shaded from prying eyes. The cover of the trees will offer them shade, but it's another layer of security from curious eyes that might somehow stumble across them. Danny isn't ashamed of his Shift, or Gracie’s, but that doesn't mean he's ready to announce it publicly to everyone.

It's barely a minute between Grace’s last shoe hitting the ground and her shift; she's been practicing, or maybe she's just more comfortable with Danny being so close. In New Jersey it wasn't as easy, something he's grateful for now even if Hawaii was never his choice. At least here they have room to run and sprawl without neighbors grabbing for shotguns; Shifters are known, but that doesn't always mean they're _welcome._ Danny would rather live every day surrounded by pineapples if it means Grace can be free; her happiness or his isn't a hard choice to make.

“Look at you go, monkey,” he praises enthusiastically. He watches her fur ripple across her small frame; the way she shrinks and twists and whines through her bones and cartilage popping and rearranging. Shifting is painful, there's nothing they can do about it, but practice makes it bearable. Grace is young, but she's comfortable in her Shift, so Danny keeps an eye on her while he folds her clothes until his daughter's human body is gone and he's looking down into the beautiful brown eyes of his wriggling pup.

“Hey there,” he rumbles, pleased and so in love he couldn't stop the swell of pride even if he wanted to. Grace's thin, whip-like tail wags frantically, sunlight dancing over her dark brindle patterning. She's got a white streak down her face and white splashed over her chest; two oversized white front paws and the most beautiful eyes Danny has ever seen.

She barks at him impatiently and drops into a playful crouch, her dark muzzle cushioned by soft green grass. Blades sway against her soft, floppy ears; it must tickle because she tosses her head with a disgruntled grumble that makes Danny _beam_ because his daughter is too perfect for words.

“I've got this,” Rachel says quietly, taking Grace's clothes from him and looking down at their child with worry that's very well hidden by love. “Run with her, Danny. It'll do you both good.”

“You don't gotta tell me twice.” Danny strips quickly and efficiently, folding his clothes with much less care and letting some on some of the ironclad control that keeps his Shift contained. It rushes through him like a fever, heating him from the inside out until his skin burns and his lungs constrict. He grits his teeth through the pain, his gums aching and bleeding as blunt human teeth become much more deadly. Bones snap, tendons tear, and it all remakes itself as the world around him becomes much larger and much clearer.

In the aftermath, Danny shakes his head and feels his ears whip with the movement. He pants happily, long tongue lolling from the side of his mouth; his bark is loud and powerful, and his pup's answering yip makes his long, thin tail beat happily against the ground. He sits for a moment, cataloging the rush of scents filling his dark, wet nose. He smells _pack_ and strangers that carry faint traces of his family, but nothing that raises his hackles. Rachel has retreated back inside, it's just him and Gracie now, so he chuffs to get his pup's attention before loping toward the farthest corner of the property.

The feeling of being shifted is something Danny can never accurately describe to a human. It's _rightness_ and _home_ for him. He likes his human skin, he's good at what he does and he enjoys interacting with others, but his Shifted state will always be the most comfortable for him. The freedom he feels this way, the instincts he doesn't have to keep tethered -- nothing has ever felt so satisfying. He doubts anything will ever come close.

Contrary to some popular beliefs, Shifters are not mindless beasts when they're in their Shifted state. Danny still has his mind and his memories, but his instincts are noticeably sharper. His senses are as well; he can hear a woman watering her lawn four blocks away and tilts his head to the side curiously. Grace copies him, one of her ears flopping across her eyes, and Danny huffs warmly at his pup before he drops his head and nuzzles her. She's still so small, barely bigger than his head, but she'll grow into a stunning Shift. He can already see it in her; she's got a slender build, streamlined and athletic, but he can already tell she'll have the powerful muscle their breed is known -- and feared -- for.

Danny will shield her from as much of that backlash as he can. His daughter deserves to be happy no matter what; no one is going to take that from her as long as Danny is breathing.

She whines at him, eager to _run_ rather than meander, so he nips at her nose and gives her a grin before he takes off across the yard. It's not entirely fair to her -- she's still learning her Shift and Danny's had years of melding with his -- but his pup is nothing if not determined. She chases him, barking and biting at his heels as he leads her on a merry chase around the property. Sometimes he'll slow down enough for her to catch him, sharp teeth nipping at his hind legs or his tail, and then he'll turn and chase her instead. It's their own little game of tag, one that turns into hide-and-seek once she's bored enough to want something new.

He puts her through her exercises, teaching her to use her senses and finding better and better hiding spots. When she finds him he tumbles her gently onto her back and licks her from the crown of her head to the tip of her tail. She bats at his face and licks his muzzle, her tongue warm and gentle across his silver muzzle. The grooming is only tolerated for so long before she squirms free and runs to hide, making _him_ track her down this time. Danny deliberately takes his time, doing everything he can to build her confidence before he pounces; he rolls her again and pins her with a paw that's almost as big as she is, giving her another wide grin before Rachel calls for them. Danny looks up at his ex-wife, panting and still grinning, his tail wagging. She smiles back, smaller and slightly strained, and Danny realizes for the first time that the sun is starting to set. He's been playing with Gracie for hours now, reveling in his Shift; he'd completely lost track of the time.

“Thank you,” he says once he has the right vocal chords again. Grace is already shifted and dressed, tucked under his arm and looking happier than he'd ever thought she could. Rachel nods and makes an abortive movement toward the tie he's got draped around his neck, her fingers twitching like she wants to fix it before she catches herself and crosses her arms.

“You don't do that enough,” she says, shaking her head. Her eyes flick to Grace quickly before she looks at him again.

“Go get somethin’ to eat, monkey.” He crouches down to give his pup a quick kiss and rubs their noses together. Her arms wrap around his neck and he hugs her tightly, breathing her in again before he lets go. “Well shift again real soon, okay?” he promises. When she nods eagerly, he can't help but grin. “Danno loves you,” he reminds her.

“I love you too, Danno!”

When she's gone inside, her jog still more like a lope with her Shift so recent, he looks at Rachel again. “You were saying?”

“I haven't let you,” she amends. She hugs herself and drops her head, averting her eyes as shame oozes from her pores. “I haven't been the easiest person,” she admits, and Danny wisely bites back the comment he wants to make. “Daniel, I know you aren't shifting enough.” That's said like a challenge and she lifts her head, squaring her shoulders and settling in like she's expecting a battle.

“I'm fine,” he mutters, too tired to argue. She's right, he knows she is, but he hasn't had much of an option lately. New Jersey was crowded, but he could always find places to let his Shift free. Hawaii has ample space, but Danny doesn't know these forests. This place is strange to him; he doesn't want to risk a shift in the wrong area. He doesn't want to run into the wrong people.

“You're _not_ fine, that's my point.” Shaking her head, Rachel gestures at the yard around them. “This is enough for her for now, Daniel, but it's not enough for _you_. You need to shift more. You _have_ to. You know what happens if you don't.”

“Yes, I do,” Danny snaps. His temper flares but sputters out quickly; he already feels more controlled than he has in days, and that's enough to prove Rachel’s point loudly. “I know, Rach,” he tries again, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder and pretending her small flinch doesn't hurt like a knife through his chest. “I haven't had the time to explore, is all. I've kept myself too busy.”

“Promise me,” she whispers. She grips his wrist and looks at him with determined eyes that still glint with the fear she's never been able to snuff out. “ _Promise me_ that you'll make time, Danny. This isn't just your life anymore; it hasn't been for a while now, and you know that.”

“I know,” he bites out, but there's no danger in his tone; no warning for her to back off and _leave it_ even though she has no right. She gave up that right when she chose Stan. She lost that right when she moved away and tried to take his daughter with her, thinking that maybe Danny wouldn't follow his pup if they went far enough away. She was wrong, she learned that quickly, but she's right this time. It's not just his life Danny runs the risk of ruining anymore. It's Grace's, and Steve’s, and Chin’s; Kono’s and Kamekona’s and anyone else he lets in, anyone he looks at and considers _pack_.

“I'll make time,” he promises, giving her shoulder one more squeeze before he steps away. She looks beautiful in the dying sunlight, strong and almost ethereal. _Inhuman_ , he thinks with a self-deprecating snort to himself. Right. He's the non-human here; he's the dangerous one.

“Have a good night, Rachel.” He smiles for her and mostly succeeds.

“Have a good night, Daniel.”

He leaves; there's nothing else he can do but go, so he turns around and walks through the open gates and tries not to feel like he's leaving his entire world behind. He listens to the gates swing shut behind him and doesn't look. He unlocks the Camaro and climbs in and starts the car without looking, because if he looks he's going to search for Grace -- his pup, his _everything_ \-- and he knows he's not going to see her. And he's not prepared to deal with those feelings right now, not so soon after a shift.

Really, it's feels almost like luck when his phone rings and Steve’s picture pops up on the screen. He answers it with a smile, pulling out onto the street and relaxing into his human skin a little further.

“Anyone ever tell you your timing is kind of creepy?”

“I take it you had trouble leaving?” Steve sounds fond, but there's something in his voice that makes Danny's instincts perk up. He sits a little straighter and frowns.

“Yeah. I had fun, though; it's been a while for me, so it was nice to stretch my legs a bit.” He waits for a moment but Steve doesn't say anything, which is not helping his concern go away. He tries to press a little and hopes he doesn't step on an emotional landmine. “You're a ray of sunshine this evening, McGarrett. You miss your evening swim?”

“Funny,” the man snorts. “I was just wondering if you were thirsty.”

“Thirsty,” Danny repeats blankly. His stomach growls loudly and he grimaces. “Maybe a little.”

“Hungry too, I bet.” Steve sounds smug, like he heard Danny's stomach wailing for sustenance.

“Your detective skills out just outstanding today, babe. Truly exceptional.”

“I've got steaks and beer if it'll shut you up.” It's playful and light, Steve’s smooth voice a warm balm for his frazzled nerves. He's a goddamn enigma to Danny, but he knows the man is trying. In his own ways, he's trying, and Danny can accept that. He's not exactly the poster boy for emotional balance himself; they both have Issues,  and if Steve is willing to extend the olive branch then Danny is more than willing to take it.

“Steaks, huh?”

“Yes, Danny. Steaks. And beer.”

“You really know how to woo a guy,” he teases. “Will there be wine next time? Maybe flowers? I'm a classy guy, Steven. Beer and steaks is nice enough for a first date, but what about next time?”

“I will slash your tires,” Steve threatens, but he sounds happier than he has in days, and Danny laughs at the dial tone before tossing his phone onto the passenger's seat and revving the Camaro’s engine. He points the car toward Steve’s house and does his best not to speed through the streets, enjoying the warm evening as the last fiery rays of the setting sun bleed across the horizon.

As apologies go, he figures McGarrett could have done a hell of a lot worse. It gives him hope that they can -- and will -- get a hell of a lot better from here on out, and that's enough to keep Danny smiling the whole way there.


End file.
